Marcus looked at his friend with desperate hope. "What if you're wrong?"
"Then we'll survive it. But I'm not wrong."
Maya watched Ethan hold Oliver, comfort Marcus, be the kind of solid presence people needed in a crisis.
This was who he was when he stopped running someone who stayed, who showed up, who anchored others.
She'd never loved him more.
Hours passed. Oliver woke up confused and scared. Maya distracted him with vending machine snacks and terrible crayon drawings while Ethan sat with Marcus, their friendship a silent language of presence.
Finally, a doctor emerged. "Mr. Thompson?"
Marcus stood on shaking legs. "Yes?"
"Your wife is stable. The baby girl is in NICU, but her vitals are strong. They're both fighters." The doctor smiled. "You can see them soon."
Marcus collapsed into his chair, sobbing with relief. Ethan held him while he fell apart, and Maya felt tears streaming down her own face.
Life was so fragile. So terrifyingly fragile.
But people survived. They fought. They stayed.
At 3 a.m., after they'd seen Lauren and the baby tiny and perfect and hooked up to monitors but breathing Maya and Ethan finally went home.
In her apartment, exhausted and emotionally wrung out, Maya turned to Ethan. "You were amazing tonight."
"I was terrified."
"You were both. You were terrified and you stayed." She took his hands. "That's what you do, Ethan. When it matters, you stay."
"I wanted to run," he admitted. "When Marcus said something might be wrong, my first instinct was to think about Iceland.
About getting on a plane and disappearing. The old me would have."
"But you didn't."
"Because of you. Because you've taught me that staying through the scary parts is how you build something real." He pulled her close. "I'm not the same person I was six weeks ago."
"Neither am I."
They fell into bed fully clothed, too tired for anything but holding each other. Maya listened to Ethan's heartbeat and thought about Lauren fighting for her life, about that tiny baby in NICU, about how quickly everything could change.
"Ethan?" she whispered into the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you stayed. Not just tonight. Every night."
"Me too." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Even when it's terrifying."
"Especially then."
They fell asleep tangled together, and for once, Maya didn't dream about loss. She dreamed about Ethan's studio filling with photographs. About painting in good light. About building something, slowly and carefully, that could withstand the inevitable storms.
Friday arrived too quickly. Maya changed her outfit four times before settling on a dress that said "I'm serious about your daughter but not trying too hard." Ethan showed up in dark jeans and a button-down that made his eyes impossible, carrying flowers for Maya and wine for her father.
"You're strategic," Maya observed.
"I'm terrified." He adjusted his collar for the third time. "What if he hates me?"
"Then we'll deal with it."
"That's what I keep saying to you."
"Annoying, isn't it?"
They drove to her father's house the house Maya grew up in, still full of her mother's presence in every corner. David Chen answered the door, and Maya watched him take in Ethan with the critical eye of a man who'd lost his wife and was determined not to lose his daughter too.
"Mr. Chen," Ethan said, extending his hand. "Thank you for having me."
"Ethan." Her father's handshake was firm, assessing. "Come in."
Dinner was awkward at first. David asked pointed questions about Ethan's career, his plans, his history of never staying anywhere. Ethan answered honestly, not trying to hide who he'd been, but also making clear who he was trying to become.
"So you gave up a four-month assignment for my daughter," David said, cutting straight to the point.
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
Ethan glanced at Maya, then back at her father. "Because in twelve years of traveling the world, I'd never found anything worth staying for. Then I met Maya, and suddenly everywhere else felt empty."
David was quiet for a long moment. Then: "My wife used to say that about me. That I was her reason to stay still in a world that kept spinning."
Maya's eyes burned with tears. She'd never heard her father say that.
"Maya tells me you're protective," Ethan continued. "I respect that. If I were you, I'd be skeptical too. I'm a flight risk by nature. But I'm choosing to fight that nature. Because she's worth it."
"She is," David agreed. He looked at his daughter. "You seem… lighter. Than you have in two years."
"I am," Maya admitted. "He makes me want to try again. To paint, to live, to" Her voice caught. "To honor Mom by being brave instead of safe."
David's eyes glistened. "Your mother would have liked him. She always had a soft spot for reformed wanderers." He turned to Ethan. "My wife died suddenly. No warning. It destroyed Maya. If you hurt her"
"I'll do everything I can not to," Ethan said. "But I can't promise I won't. I can only promise I'll try. And if I do hurt her, it won't be because I left. It'll be because I'm human and flawed and still learning how to stay."
David studied him for another long moment, then nodded slowly. "That's honest. I appreciate honesty." He stood, clearing plates. "Maya, help me with dessert?"
In the kitchen, her father turned to her. "He loves you."
"I know."
"You love him."
"I know."
"You're terrified."
"Constantly."
David pulled her into a hug the first real hug since her mother's funeral. "Your mother would tell you to be brave. So I'm telling you: be brave. Let yourself have this."
Maya cried into her father's shoulder, two years of grief and fear finally finding release.
When they returned to the dining room, Ethan and David were looking at photos on Ethan's phone his work, his travels, the life he'd built. But mixed in were new photos:
Maya painting. The studio. Marcus's new baby. Evidence of roots growing.
After dinner, walking back to the car, Maya took Ethan's hand. "He liked you."
"He tolerated me. That's different."
"For my dad, that's the same thing." She stopped, turned to face him. "Thank you. For being honest with him. For not pretending this is easy."
"It's not easy." Ethan cupped her face. "But it's worth it. You're worth it."
"Even when I'm difficult?"
"Especially then."
They drove back to her apartment, and Maya felt something settle in her chest. Her father approved. Ethan was building a life here. The baby and Lauren were recovering. Sophie was processing her fear through art.
Maybe just maybe things could work out.
Maybe she could stop waiting for disaster and start believing in possibility.
It was terrifying.
But she was learning that terrifying and beautiful often looked the same.